about the
streets shouting in play, even as the first peal of the cracked bell in
the little church near by began to sound.

Sarah was at home. She seemed surprised to see the two white boys.

"How's little Brutus, Sarah?" asked Hugh.

"Oh! he's all hunky-dory, suh, 'deed an' he is," she replied with a
smile. "I done jest gib him his supper, and chucked de chile in his
bed. An' I ain't put a hand on him neither. Jes' as yuh sez he done
hab a lesson; but I tells him if he ebber goes to dat ere mill-pond
agin I lays fo' him, and makes him smart like fun."

"I'm sorry to trouble you, Sarah, but I've dropped my knife somewhere,
and remembered having taken it out of my pocket when you were showing
us Brutus' playhouse. Would you mind getting a lamp, and going back
there just to take a look around. I value that knife a lot, and would
hate to lose it. We won't keep you from church more than a few minutes
at most."

"Sure I will, suh. I'd do a thousand times as much fo' de white boys
as sabed my baby fo' me dis berry day."

She quickly secured a lamp, and led the way back in the yard. Thad was
beginning to show signs of nervousness. He realized that Hugh must be
playing some sort of a game, and yet strange to say he was unable to
fathom it.

Arriving at the old cabin used partly as a wash-house, and with the
rear devoted to Brutus' "playthings," they entered. Sarah held the
lamp while Hugh started to scan the floor earnestly, moving around as
he looked.

All at once he stooped and picked something up.

"Well, I was right in believing I dropped my knife in here, for you
see, I've found it again. Why, what's this?"

He bent over again, and from a receptacle in a queer old fragment of a
desk that had a number of pigeon-holes in it, Hugh plucked something
and held it before the eyes of the others. Then he made another
movement, and _three_ shining objects lay there in his hand.

Thad gasped and stared. He was looking on the missing souvenir spoons!
As for the amazed Sarah, it was a blessing that she did not let the
lamp fall from her nerveless hand as she burst forth with:

"Fo' de lands sake, if dem ain't some oh de old missis' spoons; dat
good-fo'-nothin' brack imp must a' snuck one ebbery time I takes him to
visit de lady. Oh! he kotch it fo' dis, you better belieb me!"

CHAPTER XX

LOOKING FORWARD--CONCLUSION

There could be no doubt about the genuine nature of the horror and
indignation